


the fleeting sense of love (within these god-forsaken halls).

by Miss_Nihilist



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Canon Compliant, Caretaking, Character Study, Coma, Debridement, During Canon, F/M, Falling In Love, Friendship/Love, Gen, Graphic Description (of a Burn Wound), Hurt/Comfort, Infection, Medical Procedures, Near Death, Self-Hatred, Team as Family, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:14:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26258506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Nihilist/pseuds/Miss_Nihilist
Summary: It should have been lonely, Katara mused, yet it wasn’t. She supposed that to be lonely required thinking about the people that she wanted to have around her, but all she could think about was Aang, and he was right there.He was right there, motionless on the bed. It had been a week and he’d still yet to so much as stir.Or, Katara and the three weeks that she spends at Aang's bedside after he (almost) dies.
Relationships: Aang & Katara & Sokka & Toph, Aang/Katara (Avatar)
Comments: 33
Kudos: 78





	1. still breathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title for this fic comes from the song "Sad Machine" by Porter Robinson. As much as I want to, I just can't stop associating it with Aang and Katara.
> 
> It's my personal headcanon that, even though Katara struggles with her feelings for Aang over season three, the moment she started considering him as something more than a friend/little brother was while he was unconscious after almost dying. So that's what this fic is going to explore (among other things).
> 
> (Apparently, there's a comic for this concept, which I didn't know about when I wrote this. So, if something doesn't line up, that's why.)

She woke to a Fire Nation emblem emblazoned on a tapestry above the bed. The sheets were red, the walls were steel, and the creaking of the warship around her was never something she associated with the wooden boats of the Water Tribe. Katara stumbled to her feet, nearly falling over in her haste to unwind from the blanket. By the time she reached her waterskin, left laying on the floor next to her, Katara was awake enough to remember herself.

Moving slower, she set the waterskin back down and looked around her. Sokka and Toph were passed out on the floor, next to where Katara had been sleeping. The ship had plenty of rooms for all of them, but after what happened, none of them wanted to be separated again. The only reason they weren't sleeping on the floor in Aang's room was because—

Katara felt a pang in her chest and her breath caught. Right. Because Aang was dead. Or unconscious. Or something in-between. Whatever he was, he wasn't waking up, and Katara had been too tired to argue when her dad ushered her to a different room from Aang's and told her to get some sleep.

Hakoda probably just hadn't wanted his kids to wake up to a dead body in that bed. Aang's fluttering heartbeat was so weak and his injuries were so severe that it wasn't an unfounded worry.

She forced away the memories of her nightmare still clinging to her thoughts. Katara was being ridiculous, and she knew it. Aang was fine. Well, maybe not "fine," but his heart was beating. He had opened his eyes and smiled at her before succumbing to unconsciousness again. That had to mean something. Right?

Glancing down at Sokka and Toph, curled against each other in a way they would both vehemently deny once awake, Katara knew she should rejoin them. She should go back to sleep and do her best to recuperate. It had been a day since the fight against Zuko and Azula in the catacombs beneath Ba Sing Se and her muscles still ached from it.

(But then she closed her eyes and could taste the electricity in the air, could see Aang plummeting, could feel his limp body in her arms, distinctly _couldn't_ feel his heart hammering or his lungs drawing breaths.)

Shaking her head, Katara left the room. The halls of the Fire Nation warship were more unfamiliar in the pitch-blackness of the night than they had been in the daytime. They had left lanterns on at each end of the halls, though. Katara followed them forward, picking her way carefully up to the deck of the ship. Thankfully, she wasn't very deep beneath the deck.

Surrounded by Fire Nation steel, like a prison, Katara hadn't been able to breathe.

On deck, she was greeted by a waning moon and the gentle lapping of the ocean against the sides of the boat. She remembered sinking the ship after Toph punched a hole in it, making it fill with water while the Fire Nation crew abandoned their ship. Then Katara had raised it again and Toph had smoothed out the enormous hole in the ship's hull and it was like nothing had happened. Except for that precious hour she'd been forced to spend away from Aang's bedside, wracked with guilt and terrified that she would return to find him dead again.

(She kept wishing that she had dragged the ship's crew down, too. It was the least they deserved, she thought, after what they did to Aang's people, to her tribe (her mother), to the entire world. But then the of some of those soldiers, boys and girls barely older than Sokka, would resurface in her mind's eye and Katara was glad she hadn't done it. She couldn't keep from considering it again every time they passed another Fire Nation ship. But she didn't. And that was the difference: _she didn't_.)

Flickering torchlight washed over it and the heat reminded Katara, faintly, that she was cold. She hadn't grabbed a robe before going up on deck and she was still dressed in her torn and burnt Water Tribe dress. She turned and stiffened at the sight of a Fire Nation Army uniform, only to relax when Bato's face registered a second after. "Katara?" He asked, surprised. "What are you doing awake this time of night? You should cover yourself when you're on deck, even if it is dark."

Katara forced a smile that probably came out as more of a grimace. "I forgot," she said, which was honest enough. "I just… wanted some fresh air. Sorry."

Bato's expression softened with pity, a look that Katara _hated_. He had been able to see through her for as long as she could remember: since she would go outside for "fresh air" every night for months after her mom's death. Anything to avoid sleeping and returning to the nightmares.

He looked at Katara like she was six-years-old and tiny and helpless and scared all over again and she hated _that_ more than anything. She hated that all of those things were true, a tangled knot in her chest that made her want to hug Bato and cry into his shoulder.

"Do you want me to get your father?" He asked, gently, and the urge to hug him passed.

Katara drew herself up straighter, smoothing her expression over as best she could. "No," she said airily. "I'm fine. I think I'm going to go back to bed."

His frown tightened. "Katara—" Bato tried, tone pleading.

"Goodnight, Bato!" Katara waved cheerily as she stepped around him and headed back the way she had come. Bato didn't call after her again and he didn't try to follow her. The most infuriating part was that Katara didn't know if she wanted him to or not.

She stepped back inside the interior of the ship and paused. Instead of going left, back to her room where Sokka and Toph and a nest of blankets were waiting for her, Katara went right. She knew exactly where she was going, who she needed to see.

It would have been easy to get lost on the huge warship, but Katara didn't doubt the turns she made and she came to the room she wanted quicker than she could have gotten back to her own. They had picked it for Aang because it was the first one they had come across that wasn't waterlogged and the desire to get him somewhere to rest so she could spend more time healing him had been all that mattered to Katara.

The door wasn't locked. Of course it wasn't — that first required the occupant of the room to be awake. Katara eased it open, careful to be quiet. There were two lanterns glowing dimly at one end of the room, opposite the bed. Despite the low light, it wasn't hard to see. Katara almost wished that it was darker as she drew closer to Aang's bedside. A part of her wilted, seeing him like that.

Other than the lightning burn that dominated most of his back, breaking up the proudly-earned airbending master tattoo that traced its way down his spine, Aang had plenty of other injuries. They were less severe, sure, but Katara didn't think that made the burns any better. The one on his bicep was probably going to leave a faint scar. His shoulder had been bleeding when they got on the ship, a blister that had split open, so it had been padded with gauze and wrapped along with his forearm. There were still more bandages sticking out from beneath Aang's torn and singed pants, wrapped around his knee and shin.

It wasn't right. All Aang had ever tried to do was help people — what would he have done to deserve _this_?

Katara swallowed a sigh. She pulled a chair up to Aang's bedside, content to just watch him for a moment. With her gaze trained on his chest, Katara could watch it rise and fall with his breathing. Corpses didn't breathe. He was _alive_ , she kept telling herself, and that was a start. Staring at Aang's chest made it impossible to ignore his bandages, though.

She had to close her eyes, remembering Sokka frantically digging through medical supplies as Katara steered Appa toward Cameleon Bay to meet up with her father's fleet. Sokka had been the one to pry Aang from her arms, though Katara certainly hadn't made it easy on him. A part of her had been convinced (was still convinced) that to let Aang out of her sight meant his heart would finally stop stuttering and give out.

But Sokka had been as calm as she'd ever seen him, wrapping the wounds, directing Katara to heal the more minor injuries before wrapping those too. And when they had landed, at his direction, Sokka had left her and Toph to look after Aang while he explained the situation to their dad.

Sokka had given her that moment to be weak. Briefly, Katara wondered what he would say if he could see her now. She had been the strong one after their mom died, the one who pulled their family back together, though the loss had left her feeling like her chest had been split open and she would never be whole again. But looking at Aang, Katara could only think that she was so _tired_ of being strong. (She liked to think that Sokka wouldn't have judged her, that he would have hugged her and sat with her because he was just as torn up as she was.)

Because Aang _had_ died. Katara had felt it not seconds after she stopped his plummet, catching Aang in her arms. She had felt his last breath and that his body was going cold even as the bloody burn on his back pulsed hotter than ever. He had died in her arms, but there he was anyway, still breathing.

For all intents and purposes, Katara knew that she had failed. If it hadn't been for the Spirit Water from the North Pole, Aang would have died. And it would have been her fault.

(Images from her nightmare drifted back to her then. Katara hadn't woken up screaming, but it had been close. In her dreams, Aang had died and he had stayed dead. Katara had been sobbing over his body, trying again and again to force his corpse to take the Spirit Water, but she never succeeded. The image of his body spasming, lightning cracking in the air, blood boiling as it oozed out of the splits in his skin, all of it was seared into her mind. Katara knew it would never go away, that it would haunt her for decades to come, and she didn't think that she deserved to be free from the mental torment, regardless.)

Katara moved her chair closer to Aang's bedside, glancing briefly at his face. He looked uncomfortable. At some point between moving him from Appa's back to the bedroom of a Fire Nation warship, Aang had lost his peaceful expression. She took hold of his hand and wondered if he was running hot or if Katara was running cold.

Her fingers curled around his wrist, slim and limp in her hand. Katara closed her eyes. His pulse was weak, but it was there, fluttering and fragile. Every pause between beats made her chest tighten and her throat close, her worry consuming her, but then Aang's heartbeat would continue as though that second where it hadn't been pounding was nothing but Katara's overactive imagination.

And maybe it was. Katara felt frayed, at her wit's end, and she had only been on the ship for a day. She felt like crying. Even when she was awake, her nightmares refused to go away.

Stubbornly, Katara blinked away the stinging in her eyes. There was a bowl of water at Aang's bedside and she drew a thin stream from it. Carefully, she molded the water into smaller balls and eased Aang's mouth open with her other hand. It was important that he stayed hydrated, although getting him to eat was no doubt going to be more difficult. Katara got him to drink the water without incident, but when she settled back down again, she found her anxious hands making a mess of her braid and her leg bouncing impatiently.

It took another minute of agonizing anticipation before Katara gave in. Slowly, she rolled Aang over into his back. He twitched and jerked, groaning in displeasure, but his eyes only seemed to squeeze themselves shut even tighter. Katara bit her lip against the guilt and began carefully undoing his bandages. A little midnight healing session had never hurt anyone.

(And if the healing session was more for Katara's benefit than his, well, she got the feeling that Aang wouldn't have complained.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this chapter is short. The others are longer.
> 
> Also, I've never written for this fandom before, so if it seems out-of-character at all, I'm sorry about that.


	2. corpses don't have heartbeats.

For their healing sessions, Aang had to be resting on his stomach. Katara would have kept Aang on his front all the time to make it easier on the burn and the rest of his body, but that would only result in breathing complications. And considering how every breath was already a struggle for him, Katara chose the lesser of two evils.

Her hands were shaking as she peeled away the bandages, but Katara moved with purpose. She wouldn't let herself falter. She could _see_ the muscles of his back, normally hidden under unmarked skin, convulse as Aang settled and Katara felt bile rise in her throat before she choked it down.

It was the worst injury Katara had ever seen. Granted, she hadn't seen many serious injuries. There had been a lot of faint burns over the past few months on the run from firebenders, and Aang would more often than not leave earthbending practice with Toph sporting another bruise or two, and Sokka had broken his arm when he was eleven while trying to teach himself to hunt, but…

But none of it was anything compared to Aang's burn.

There were leathery strips of skin hanging off in flaps, where there had been a hole blown in the center of his back and everything else around had been burned. There were spots that were white, chunks that extended deeper and were an angry red. The area closest to the center was black and charred, like meat that had been left over the fire for too long. It made Katara sick to look at. The first time she had seen it without his burnt clothes sticking to it, she'd had to exit to the hallway before her stomach upturned.

The exposed flesh beneath was inflamed and red and sticky. No matter how many times Katara cleaned the wound and healed it, every time she unwrapped it there was more discharge. Sometimes it was clear, sometimes it was a faint yellow, and a few times it'd had a greenish tint that made Katara want to cry for the hopelessness of it all. She thought of the Northern Water Tribe and wished, fleetingly, that she had spent more time in the healing huts. They surely would have known what to do for a wound like this. ( _Someone_ had to know how to treat a close-range lightning strike.) Katara didn't.

She took a deep breath and pulled a stream of water from the jug resting on the floor next to her. It was filled with clean saltwater. The salt was supposed to sting, but Aang never so much as twitched when Katara healed him. A part of her understood that it was because the charred parts of his body, extending so deep that she was surprised his bones weren't blackened, couldn't feel anymore.

(Katara ignored that thought, because if the wound couldn't feel, then it was dead, and if it was dead, then what was she trying to heal?)

Sure enough, Katara lowered her water-covered hands to the burn and Aang didn't react at all. The water began to glow as she channeled her energy through it, moving along Aang's back in gentle circles. He was filled with energy, too. It was twisted and angry, storming in his chest as though the lightning had entered him and never left. Katara wondered if that was why Aang wasn't waking up. She tried to be gentle and guide the energy out, to at least smooth the tangles, but it never helped. Her healing wasn't broken, though it never seemed to have much of an effect regardless.

The burn scar was only surface level (in a manner of speaking, anyway, because the worst of it extended deep beyond what could be called the "surface"). Katara felt ruptured blood vessels and a cracked rib, that Aang was damn lucky hadn't punctured a lung (but, laying in that bed and unable to wake, he looked the furthest thing from lucky). Those things would be easier to heal once the burn was taken care of. Katara could only heal so much at once and the burn, with its beginning stages of infection, was where most of her focus was.

Biting back a surge of frustration, feeling again like she had just wasted everyone's time, Katara pulled the water away and dropped it back into the jug. The wound looked the exact same as it had before she started. It had changed in the last few days, though. The unmarked skin around the burn was spotted with green and yellow, as though bruised. The burn itself seemed to have gotten thicker and it was swelling, parts of it adapting a purple discoloration that made Katara's head spin with worry.

And it wasn't just the burn that had changed. Aang wasn't getting much better, either. His face was red, flushed with fever, and his skin was always hot where Katara touched him. Where his skin wasn't a blotchy red, it was pale and pasty. A thin sheen of sweat seemed to permanently cover him, as though he was hot even though she often caught him shivering.

It was a sickness, Katara knew, which wasn't surprising but it didn't lessen her concerns any. She could barely treat the burn and it was _right there_. How was she supposed to be able to heal something inside of him, something that she couldn't even see?

She had just finished rewrapping Aang's wound and positioning him on his back again when the door to the room swung open. Katara found herself tensing for a tight, though she managed to stop herself from fumbling for her waterskin. It was a relief to see that it was only Sokka, although Katara's heart refused to stop pounding as he walked over with a tray of food balanced in his arms.

"You didn't come up for lunch," Sokka said as an explanation. "Or breakfast. Or dinner, yesterday. Or the lunch before that, or the breakfast before that, or…" He handed Katara a bowl of rice and Fire Nation vegetables and meat that she couldn't name.

Katara rolled her eyes and ignored the insistent clenching of her empty stomach as she took the food. "I get it, Sokka."

There was no point in arguing with him when he was right. How was Katara supposed to do something as menial as eating when Aang still wasn't improving? He was just as close to dying as he had been right after he was shot, and if Katara left his room for a moment, she had a horrible feeling that there would be nothing to come back to.

The bowl for herself was set aside and Katara reached over to take the one meant for Aang. The vegetables in that one were cut up much smaller, almost mush. Most of it was rice. It didn't have much nutrition, but it would keep Aang from starving until he could feed himself properly again. He had always been skinny but, already, he was beginning to take a turn for "skeletal."

Pulling her chair closer to Aang's head, Katara sat down and used the chopsticks provided to slowly feed Aang, bit by bit. He couldn't chew, unconscious as he was, so she settled for small pieces that were swallowed automatically without a risk of choking him.

Helping her best friend drink and eat always made Katara shake with rage. Sokka was still in the room, and Katara could feel him staring at her, though she couldn't even begin to guess what sort of expression he was making. Her hands were trembling. "I'll kill them," she said hoarsely, partly to fill the silence and partly because she felt like she would fall apart if she didn't release some of the fury bubbling in her chest. "Zuko and Azula. I'll kill them for doing this to him."

Aang wouldn't like it, but Katara doubted that he liked being so injured that he couldn't even take care of his own basic needs, either.

(And what if she _had_ healed Zuko's scar, back in the crystal catacombs beneath Ba Sing Se? What then? Would Zuko have been swayed just enough to join them? Would he have still sided with Azula? Katara would have been made into a fool, into a _joke_. For wasting her kindness as well as the Spirit Water on scum like Zuko. Aang would have been dead, permanently that time. The Avatar cycle would have been broken. If Aang had been a minute slower in coming to rescue her, then Katara might have actually gone through with it. The very idea of that night without any Spirit Water made Katara want to curl up until she remembered how to breathe again.)

"You'll need some serious backup for a fight like that." It wasn't Sokka's voice, but Toph's that had joined the conversation. Katara looked up and was surprised to see Toph in the doorway. Her head was down, her expression partly obscured by her hair and unreadable. "Luckily, I know a thing or two about cracking heads." Toph flexed one arm to prove her point. There was a confident grin on her face, and her words were as bragging as they had always been, but something in her tone was wrong. Katara couldn't place it.

Still, Katara managed a grateful smile. "I know," she said quietly. The anger that had been so potent a moment ago drained out of her as Katara resumed feeding Aang. She wanted to say something more, just to keep the silence from growing tense, but Katara couldn't think of anything to say.

They all seemed to be in agreement, anyway. At least, they were when it came to the things that mattered.

Footsteps sounded quietly against the metal floor as Sokka drifted closer. Katara didn't acknowledge him, more focused on what her hands were doing than her brother. It was obvious that Sokka had something he wanted to say and she had the uncomfortable feeling that she wasn't going to like it. And what was Toph there for? As backup? She wasn't much better with "emotionally delicate" situations than Sokka was.

When he was standing next to her, Sokka set a hand on Katara's shoulder. She tried and failed not to tense up, but at least succeeded in not pushing him away. Katara resolutely forced herself to continue feeding Aang, her movements stiff and mechanical.

"Katara," Sokka said, and he sounded so much like dad that Katara paused. "You know… you can let one of us keep watch over Aang for you. He doesn't need to be healed all the time," he pointed out. The words fit awkwardly in his mouth, betraying Sokka's uncertainty. Katara didn't blame him. It wasn't like either of them had been in a situation anywhere close to this before.

His words made Katara want to laugh, though she knew that if she did, she would start crying. The roles had been reversed: it was like they had lost their mom all over again, and Katara and Sokka were both too young and inexperienced and weak to have any idea what they were supposed to do. Sokka was the one trying to drag everyone forward, with his plans for the invasion and his endless optimism that, yes, Aang _was_ going to wake up. And Katara was the one stewing in her own misery and disappointment and anger.

Then again, Sokka hadn't seen it. He hadn't been there to watch it happen, to _let it_ happen. He hadn't failed.

"I don't need to rest," Katara snapped, her words like ice. She shrugged Sokka's hand off of her shoulder and set the empty bowl of food aside.

Twisting around to face him, their eyes met, and Katara was nearly quieted by the plea she saw on his face. Sokka looked so tired. He must have been as sick with worry as she was, Katara thought, losing sleep over concerns for Aang and Katara both. But he didn't look like a scared little boy, either. He wasn't lost and shaking, not like Katara was.

Her gaze hardened, because Katara refused to let herself be weak again, and she held Sokka's desperate stare as she said, "I know exactly where I'm needed right now. Maybe I couldn't save him down in those catacombs—" _She could have, if she'd been more than she was now._ "—but I'm a healer. I can heal him, I can help him now." _Except she couldn't even do that much correctly, could she?_

Sokka opened his mouth like he was going to argue further with her, but was cut off when Toph, crossing the room quickly, clapped a hand down on his shoulder. He winced, shooting Toph a dirty look, but she still had her sightless eyes fixated firmly on the floor. It was quiet for a moment and then, to Katara, Toph said, "Your heart is pounding like crazy."

It was with a start that she realized Toph was right. Katara frowned, unsure how to reply. It didn't feel like a danger response or a rush of adrenaline. And Katara wasn't mad anymore. Not exactly. But she looked down at her lap and saw that her hands were still trembling and she felt hot and sweaty.

Fear. Katara was terrified.

"So?" She shot back, suddenly defensive. The steel room was as cold as the crystals in that catacomb. Every time she blinked, Katara saw the flash of lightning. Aang hadn't screamed, but she almost wished he had, because that would have been better than the limp body in her arms. He hadn't stopped falling since Azula shot him. And sitting at his bedside, unable to help him get better, Katara was beginning to doubt that she could catch him a second time.

There were tears in her eyes. The anger that ran through her was so strong that it took her breath away, but the feeling wasn't directed at Azula or Zuko: it was directed at herself.

This never should have happened.

Toph lifted her head and blinked in Katara's general direction. For once, her expression was closed and impossible to read. Then Toph shrugged. "Nothing, forget it," she said dismissively. "But if you're going to stay and look after Twinkletoes, then we will, too. We're a team, aren't we?"

Katara shook her head, then paused. "I mean— yes, we are, absolutely, but you don't have to—" She fumbled for an excuse, then settled for a scowl. "I can do this by myself."

Sokka had yet to see the burn in full. Would he be as horrified by it as Katara had been, or would he hold up stronger than her against that, too?

"Great! Then there's no harm in us staying, right?" Sokka ignored the glare that Katara sent his way and pulled up the only other chair in the room. He sat near the end of the bed, with Toph leaning against his chair, apparently content to stand.

She tried to be angry, but Katara quickly deflated. "Fine," she muttered, knowing that they could be just as stubborn as her. "I finished changing his bandages so I won't have to do it again for another few hours."

When they didn't reply, a content sort of silence fell over the group. Katara reached over and grasped Aang's hand, rubbing her thumb along his palm and quickly finding the familiar groove of his wrist. And there was his heartbeat, thumping just as erratically as it had been since they settled into the warship. It was better than nothing.

Katara took a deep breath. _Corpses don't have heartbeats_ , she said to herself over and over again, a fervent mantra. Eventually, she let herself relax.

Maybe it was the stress of the last few days, maybe it was the reassurances of Aang's hand in hers, or maybe it was the quiet companionship of Sokka and Toph but, when Katara's chin fell against her chest, she didn't try to raise her head. Though it wasn't the same as a good night's sleep in bed, dozing in that chair next to her friends was the most relaxed Katara had been since a burst of lightning blew her world apart.

She wondered if Sokka and Toph were staying for Aang's sake or for hers.


	3. you can't heal something that's dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is as intense as the medical stuff is going to get. If you don't know what debridement is, I suggest looking it up, because I tagged it for a reason. It's not going to be explicitly shown, but it's not pretty, either.

It should have been lonely, Katara mused, but it wasn't. She supposed that to be lonely required thinking about the people that she wanted to have around her, but all she could think about was Aang, and he was right there.

He was right there, motionless on the bed. It had been a week and he'd still yet to so much as stir.

Katara twisted her fingers in her skirt anxiously. A part of her felt that she was overreacting, seeing things that weren't there, but she knew that she wasn't. She wished that she was imagining it: the pasty look to Aang's skin, the permanent sheen of sweat that had developed seemingly overnight, the furrow of pain between his eyebrows, the heated flush to his face.

That pained look was the worst part, Katara thought. He was conscious enough now to know that he was hurting, but not to know that Katara was doing everything she could to heal and comfort him. He hadn't looked in pain when Azula shot him with lightning.

Cradled in Katara's arms, Aang had looked so peaceful. He could have been sleeping. He could have been dead.

Technically, he _had_ been dead. Why couldn't Katara move past that?

The metal door to Aang's room creaked open (everything on the damn ship creaked) and Katara's head snapped up. She reached automatically for her waterskin, despite knowing that it was likely just Sokka and Toph trying to convince her to come out and eat again. Usually, that was Katara's signal to start another healing session. She made sure to do at least three of them a day.

But it wasn't Sokka and Toph, nor was it a threat coming to finish the job. Katara could picture a dozen different methods of assassination, easily. (A dagger plunging down and snapping Aang's thin rib cage, an explosion that would rip the ship apart as easily as Aang's body, a burst of fire that would leave both of them disfigured beyond recognition, or Aang could be dropped into the ocean and unable to swim back to the surface, or blunt force to the head would break his skull, or—) There were so many things she couldn't protect him against, so many flaws in her defense, so many imperfections and inadequacies to be exploited.

Katara had to push the paranoia away to see clearly. There was no enemy waiting in the doorway. It was just her father, with his Fire Nation Army helmet tucked under one arm and a tight, serious frown on his face.

She met him with a scowl, anger with no discernible source bubbling beneath her skin. Katara thought nothing of it. Anymore, it felt like she was angry at everyone and everything. The injustice of it all made her want to scream. "What is it?" She snapped, maybe more harshly than she meant to, but not so much so that Katara felt bad about it.

Hakoda barely seemed to notice, aside from the flicker of regret in his eyes. He took a few steps into the room, closing the door behind him. "I came to check on the Avatar," he said.

"His name is _Aang_." Katara was tense all over. She wished that her dad would let her be alone and she wished that he would never leave. "And I have healing sessions with him regularly every day. He's fine. He doesn't need you to look at him."

Normally, Hakoda backed away and gave Katara her space when she was in one of her "moods," as Sokka put it. But his expression hardened and Katara knew it wasn't going to be that easy this time.

"I'm not doubting your abilities as a healer, Katara," Hakoda said patiently, "but it's been a week. I've tended to my own men after severe burns before. He shouldn't still be unconscious unless something is wrong." When it looked like Katara was going to argue again, he held his hands up in surrender. "If nothing is wrong, you can rewrap his bandages. It won't take longer than a minute. But if something _is_ wrong, we need to know."

Katara opened her mouth and then closed it unhappily. Much as she didn't want anyone else to touch Aang, to jostle him and cause even more pain or provide the wrong treatment and only make things worse, she couldn't argue with her dad's logic. She had never treated a burn this bad before. In comparison, she felt ridiculous for having cried over singed hands when Aang accidentally burnt her when first learning to firebend. This was so much worse.

And, much as she hated to admit it, her waterbending wasn't helping. No matter how many healing sessions Katara provided, it never seemed to improve his condition.

So because it was between her pride and Aang's life, Katara let out a breath and stood up. "Alright," she muttered, subdued. "I'll help you turn him over."

It was the worst part of the healing sessions, only because Katara knew how much pain Aang was in. Touching him was slow and horrible, even with Hakoda's help. It was as though Aang's entire body was oversensitive and Katara's touches, no matter how gentle, felt like the slashing of knives. He whimpered and cried out as they quickly, carefully rotated Aang onto his back, but never once did his eyes open.

Once Aang was situated and still, Katara moved her hands to the bandages. She felt a twinge of worry when they came away damp, which only grew more intense when Hakoda got one look at the burn and hissed through clenched teeth.

"What is it?" She demanded, wide-eyed with concern and fear. "Is it that bad?" And what Katara didn't ask was: ' _Is it salvageable? Is it my fault?'_

Hakoda hesitated. Obviously, whatever the problem was, he wasn't eager to discuss it with her. Katara narrowed her eyes and was about to remind her dad that she was fourteen, not four, when he sighed and started speaking.

"It's a rather severe infection, from what I can tell," Hakoda explained. "I'm not a trained healer, but these areas that have turned black and white need to be removed for the rest of it to heal. Right now, it's just inviting infection. If we give it the chance to spread, it could turn into a nasty case of blood poisoning. And if that happens, well…" He shook his head. "At that point, it would be more merciful to finish it ourselves."

Katara's breath caught. She knew what that meant, even if her father wasn't using those exact words: _kill him._ They would have to kill Aang because it would be less agony than whatever blood poisoning would put him through.

"What do you mean by "removed"?" Was the question that Katara eventually settled on. There were so many other things she wanted to protest as if letting someone else try to heal Aang was the same as signing his death sentence.

Uncomfortable, Hakoda had to look away from her. Carefully, he said, 'The wound can't heal while it's like this. We need to cut out the pieces of skin that have died so that new tissue can grow in its place. It will also help us make sure there's no debris left in the wound, which would only make the infection worse."

Everything after "cut out" had gone in one ear and out the other for Katara. Her eyes were wide as she looked down at Aang, trying to imagine all of the black pieces just… gone. It was going to make the bleeding and scarring worse. There was so much of it to be removed. Her dad had just admitted that he wasn't trained. What if it only made Aang worse? Hakoda wanted to take a carving knife to Aang's back, and he was already so breakable.

"No!" Katara shouted, fueled by a violent and irrational surge of protectiveness. She knew that her dad could be trusted, that he wasn't going to hurt Aang on purpose, but knowing that didn't help her calm down. "You can't do that to him!"

The expression on Hakoda's face was infuriatingly patient. "Katara…"

"We don't need to cut into him!" Katara continued to insist. "I can— I can heal him! I _am_ healing him! This suggestion is just— _ridiculous_!"

"Katara." It wasn't a shout, but Hakoda's tone was sharp enough that she immediately quieted. Katara could count the number of times that her dad had raised his voice against her on one hand and it never failed to subdue her. His gaze was severe. "You can't heal something that's dead. If there's any hope of him recovering, we need to do this."

And Katara wanted, delusionally, to keep protesting. Because she _had_. Aang had been dead and she had been able to undo it. She had laid her hands on his back, felt his blood run hot between her fingers, and coaxed his heart to start again and his lungs to pull in air.

She could heal what had died, like a forest growing over the ashes of its predecessor. She could _do this_ ~~for herself~~ for Aang, so why did everyone keep trying to insist otherwise?

Hakoda reached for her then and Katara pulled away on impulse. He froze, surprised. Katara had never rejected his touch before. Reaching up, she felt that her cheeks were damp, even though she didn't remember beginning to cry. She had no idea what to say to her dad, so Katara glared at the floor instead. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Aang trembling, overcome by another fit of chills, and that was the last push she needed.

"Alright. Do it," Katara agreed, taking a deep breath. She forced herself to hold Hakoda's gaze, just so that there was no uncertainty about her support. "Whatever it takes to save Aang, I don't care. What do I need to do?" The word " _anything"_ was left unsaid but Katara had the feeling that her intent got across regardless.

There was a pause while Hakoda figured out how he wanted to deliver the bad news and Katara's heart sank before he'd even opened his mouth. "You don't need to be in here for this next part," he said gently. "I want you to go get Bato, then fetch some clean water. You'll need to perform a healing session when we're done, to help stem the bleeding, but you won't be needed for the process itself."

That was what he said, but Katara could tell that what Hakoda meant was: " _I don't want you to have to see this."_

Fingers curled into fists at her sides and Katara struggled for what felt like a long time to smother her indignation. She forced her fists to unclench and said, simply, "Fine." Because what else could she say? Her dad had already decided that she was a child, too delicate to bear witness to what was coming next. And if Katara stood there arguing, Aang was just going to get sicker and sicker.

She walked past her dad with her chin held high, even though she was shaking and furious. Hakoda said nothing to her, Katara just heard the rustling sound of Aang's bandages being fully removed and set aside as she left the room.

It had been so long since she'd been up to the deck of the boat that Karkat had to take a moment to remember which way to turn. At least it distracted her from the urge to punch something. Bato was one of the lookouts, so he would be up on deck or up the watchtower. Katara headed for the deck first, quickening her steps. She hoped that she found him easily. The sooner he got to Aang's room to help Hakoda, the better.

Katara resolutely ignored anyone who tried to speak to her as she headed toward the top. They were some of her dad's warriors — men of the Southern Water Tribe — and a few of Jet's Freedom Fighters (and Katara did everything she could not to think about Jet, either). Most of them got one look at her face and stepped to the side, but Katara didn't stick around to talk to those that didn't get the hint.

Stepping outside, Katara was hit by a cool blast of ocean air that whipped her braid into her face and sent her Fire Nation cloak snapping in the wind. She was so caught off guard that she staggered. If the wind had just been a little colder, a little sharper, Katara would have thought that it felt like home.

She heard Appa rumble, then hurried footsteps. Katara turned, watching Sokka and Toph leave Appa's side to run over and greet her.

"Katara!" Sokka went for a hug, only to pause when she recoiled from him. His eyes widened in a mix of alarm and concern, but he dropped his arms. "Katara, are you alright?"

"And what are you doing up here?" Toph cut in, elbowing Sokka in the side. "You haven't come up for air since we arrived. Is Aang…?" She trailed off, her tone betraying the surge of hope she must have been feeling.

It almost made Katara feel bad to not have any news to bring her. "No, Aang is fine." She shook her head. The word "fine" tasted dirty in her mouth, like a lie. It couldn't be the furthest thing from the truth. "I'm just here looking for Bato. Have you seen him?"

Sokka frowned, expression turning curious. "What do you need Bato for?" He asked, instead of _just answering the damn question._

Biting back an impatient demand, Katara ground out, "Dad needs him. They're going to…" She hesitated, losing some of her fire. "Dad wants to… operate on Aang. His back. An infection set in, so they're going to cut away the dead pieces so it doesn't get any worse and he can heal properly."

(He could have been healing properly the entire time if Katara had just let her dad look at the wound on that first night they spent on the ship.)

The announcement made Sokka pale, and even Toph looked taken aback. "The dead pieces…?" He repeated, in the tone of one who had understood perfectly the first time and wished that he hadn't.

Katara decided that she didn't have time to stand around and pat Sokka's hand while he lost his lunch over the side of the guard railing. "Where's Bato?" She asked instead, with far more urgency the second time.

Frustration was rising in her, building into a storm. Couldn't Sokka see the severity of the situation? He was looking at her with concern, but not for Aang. It was as though Sokka was worried about her, but Katara was _fine_ , and Aang was the one who needed a portion of his back cut away if he was going to survive. She wanted to grab Sokka by the shoulders and shake him until his priorities realigned, but she didn't get the chance.

"Right here." Bato seemed confused as he approached them, taking his helmet off to look between the three of them with a frown. As if sensing the tension radiating from Katara, he continued carefully. "I just came down from the watchtower. Is something wrong?" It wasn't really a question. He was staring at Katara because even he knew that there was only one reason why she would be there.

"Dad needs to see you in Aang's room," was all Katara said, skipping the preamble. That was enough of an explanation. Her dad would readily fill in the rest while they were working.

Bato, used to taking orders from Hakoda, just nodded and didn't ask questions. Watching him leave, Katara couldn't help but slump in relief. At least one person on the boat wasn't being difficult.

When he had disappeared beneath deck, Katara turned back to Sokka and Toph and said, "I'm going to get some clean water and new bandages." She didn't tell them to follow her, but she didn't tell them to stay, either. Katara hoped that her message was communicated by her expression alone because it certainly wasn't a friendly one.

She turned and walked away. Sokka started after her but, out of the corner of her eye, Katara saw Toph set a hand on his arm and give a pointed shake of the head. Not a word was exchanged, but Katara was left alone. She told herself that she was glad for it, though couldn't quite bring herself to believe that.

Katara grabbed a bucket and, leaning over the side of the boat, filled it with clean seawater. Lugging it back down into the ship without spilling it was another matter. She started down the stairs with the bucket held in both hands. There was a supply closet at the base of the stairs where the emergency medical supplies were kept and Katara quickly found the bandages. They were running low, so the old ones would either have to be washed or they would have to dock somewhere to purchase more. Considering that most of them knew barely anything about Fire Nation customs and all of their money was Water Tribe currency, Katara made a mental note to gather and wash the used bandages after her next healing session.

(She told herself that Aang would be fine for about ten minutes on his own, that nothing horrible could happen in such a short amount of time but, then again, that lightning strike had only lasted a few seconds, and look at where they had ended up.)

It had been long enough that Katara figured Hakoda and Bato had already started the procedure. She had bandages tucked under one arm and a bucket of water in her hands and determination in her gait. Her supplies were the perfect excuse to enter the room. Her dad might have thought that Katara couldn't handle it, but she had been looking at Aang's burn for a week now and she was fine.

Maybe she was being a little bit petty. Katara was willing to concede that, not that it changed her mind any.

As she approached Aang's room, though, Katara slowed. Her head tilted to the side as she tried to listen closer. Was someone… screaming? It should have made her hurry, but dread pooled in Katara's stomach and she found herself inching forward with uncertainty. A part of her must have known what it was already and just didn't want to admit it. It wasn't until Katara stopped, right outside of Aang's door, that the pieces slotted into place.

 _Aang_ was the one screaming. Katara had never heard him scream before. He had yelled before, even shouted a few times, but he had never _screamed_ like he was trying to rip his own throat open, like a wild animal awaiting the slaughter, like he was so lost in agony that he couldn't remember having been able to feel anything else.

The bucket of water slid from Katara's hands with a clatter and tipped over, spilling down the hall. The bandages followed and Katara's knees hit the ground right after. She clapped both hands over her mouth and swallowed the bile stinging her throat. It was only marginally better than crying. It sounded like Aang was doing plenty of that for both of them already.

(It was like her mom was dying all over again and Katara was still helpless to do anything. If she had just been faster, _then maybe, maybe, maybe…_ )

Katara pressed her back to the wall next to the door and curled in on herself, knees tucked to her chest and head down as she tried to take deep breaths. Cold water soaked into her skirt and her stomach was heaving and Aang's screams were still rattling in her ears, but all Katara could think was: _coward, coward, coward._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to go a step further and take this infection thing to the next level, A.K.A. sepsis (which is life-threatening, for those that don't know what it is), but I decided not to. Aang doesn't have organ failure and he didn't need a limb amputation, so a nasty infection seemed enough to keep him unconscious for a few weeks without getting nearly as severe as some of the side-effects of sepsis.


	4. almost like nothing had changed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to go up yesterday, but I forgot. My bad!

It was difficult the first day after her father's surgical treatment to just go back to her routine with Aang, but Katara was determined. She sat at Aang's side every hour of the day and would often unwrap his bandages to begin a spontaneous healing session when it seemed like her circular thoughts were getting the best of her.

The first time was sickening. Katara held her breath when she unwrapped the bandages, but that hadn't kept her stomach from heaving. All in all, the wound looked cleaner once Hakoda and Bato had finished with it. All Katara could focus on, though, was that it was _indented_. There was a dent in Aang's back, that was how bad the burn was. That was how much dead flesh had been removed.

As sick as it was to look at, Katara was comforted that there was no longer the smell of rot and decay clinging to the air in the room. She wondered how she had been able to stand it.

Without the dead pieces in the way, healing sessions went much easier. Katara was exhausted at the end of every session, but that didn't stop her from picking it up again a few hours later. Sometimes she dozed in the chair at Aang's bedside, but mostly she just sat there with her hands folded in her lap and watched his chest rise and fall.

A part of Katara was convinced that, maybe, if she pushed all that she had into the healing sessions, Aang would recover faster. The removed flesh would grow back, the scar would fade, he would wake up, and it would be like nothing had happened. Almost like nothing had changed.

But, of course, everything had.

It took two days for there to be a noticeable improvement, and Katara almost started crying when she noticed that Aang's fever was going down. The infection wouldn't go away overnight, but at least it had finally begun to have the chance to heal. And Aang was strong. He would push himself through it.

He was so much stronger than he needed to be. He looked so small and fragile, swallowed up by bandages and blankets. "What if"s chased Katara through every waking moment and into her nightmares. If she had been a better fighter, been smarter, been faster, then a child — a child who was her best friend — wouldn't have been killed in those catacombs.

It wasn't fair. Katara held Aang's hand, one finger curled subtly around his wrist, and realized that she was trembling. Because it wasn't _fair_. He had been so care-free and light-hearted when they first met. Someone like Aang didn't deserve to wake up to a hostile world, where half of the people wanted him dead and the other half expected him to fix all of their problems by virtue of being born.

Not for the first time, she wanted to scream over the injustice of it all. Katara might have, had the door not suddenly swung open with a loud thud. It didn't get so much as a twitch from Aang, but Katara was on her feet in a moment. She didn't uncap her waterskin, but it was a close thing.

When she saw that it was Toph in the doorway, with Sokka just over her shoulder, Katara almost relaxed. But she saw their faces and the way they were standing and got the feeling that she shouldn't let her guard down.

"What is it? Are we being attacked? Is something wrong?" Katara asked in a rush, tempted to push them out of the way to search the hallways beyond for invaders.

"No, we're not being attacked. Calm down." Sokka held his hands up placatingly.

Walking around Toph, he approached Katara and set his hands on her shoulders. Wary, she nonetheless allowed Sokka to push her back into her seat. "What are you here for, then?" She asked, one eyebrow raised. Katara already knew that it wasn't just to see Aang. Toph and Sokka both visited sometimes, usually only once a day, but she knew that they didn't like to see their friend in his current state.

Neither did Katara, but she had a job to do.

It was clear that Sokka didn't know how to start. He fidgeted in front of Katara, thinking hard about something. He opened his mouth and closed it several times, gaping like a dead fish. His eyes seemed to be soaking up everything in the room at once, looking at anything except for Katara.

The whole thing went on for so long that Katara was beginning to wonder if Sokka was just trying to pull a particularly annoying prank on her. She was about to ask them both to leave, when Toph suddenly groaned in frustration and stomped her foot so hard that the floor was left dented. "Stop trying to avoid it and just spit it out!" She snapped, sending an unimpressed glare in Sokka's direction.

Katara was taken aback but, at the very least, it was enough to spur Sokka into action. He held himself up straighter and blurted out, "We think the way you've been acting with Aang is unhealthy and obsessive and think that you need to be taking better care of yourself."

The shock was enough that Katara didn't quite process what Sokka had said: which was good, because if she had, she would have been furious. "What?" She asked instead, blinking.

With the worst part of it over, Sokka visibly slumped. "Katara, look…" He sighed. "I want Aang to get better as much as you do, but what you're doing isn't helping him. I haven't seen you eat anything in days and you only sleep for an hour or two at a time without even leaving that chair. It's not good for you, Katara. You're going to drop if you don't treat yourself better."

Her first response was to be angry — and Katara was — still, she stopped herself before she could start yelling. Maybe it was the tiredness getting to her, but she didn't have it in her to be mad. She could tell that Sokka was coming from a place of concern. He just didn't understand what was happening the way that she did.

It wasn't _only_ that Aang needed Katara at his bedside (even though he didn't). It was that _Katara_ needed to be at his bedside for herself. For her own peace of mind.

Maybe she only slept for a few hours at a time, but at least she wasn't tormented by nightmares (at least, not ones that she could remember, and not ones that were so horrible that they could follow her to the waking world). And maybe she wasn't eating, but the hunger had stopped bothering her after a few days (well, she had gotten used to the empty, aching feeling, at any rate). And maybe she barely spoke to anyone else, but that was only because they kept trying to pull her away from Aang as if that was going to help anything (and it definitely wasn't because she could barely meet Sokka's or Toph's or her dad's eyes, terrified that she would see her own disappoint in herself reflected back at her).

She was completely fine. Why were they so worried?

It took a moment to figure out what she wanted to say, but Katara eventually shook her head. "I don't know why you're so worried. Everything will go back to normal when Aang wakes up. And it should be soon, see?" Katara reached over, pressing the back of her hand to Aang's cheek. "His fever is practically gone and he's almost got his normal color back. Just watch. It won't be long now," she said firmly, more to convince herself than Sokka.

But instead of being reassured, Sokka looked crushed. He walked over to where Katara was sitting, taking a spot on the edge of the bed next to Aang's hand. She had the funny feeling that cutting off her view of Aang was only part of the reason for Sokka's choice: the other being that he didn't want to look at Aang anymore than he had to.

"Katara, it's okay. I get it," he said in a far softer voice than he had any right to be using. "It's like when mom died. You thought it was your fault that you didn't get there in time to save her. So you put your frustration into pulling our family back together instead and you never really… let yourself just mourn." Sokka looked uncomfortable and, if Katara wasn't struggling to remember how to breathe, she would have told him to stop talking. The worst part was that he was right. He was right, and _how dare he_ drag her out into the open like that. "Aang's not dead, but you're doing the same thing with him now, Katara. You're acting like you can make everything okay again by sheer force of will and you're only making it harder on yourself. But it's not your fault," he was quick to insist, "and you need to stop acting like it is. Stop blaming yourself, Katara. Stop acting like you're the only one capable of making things better. It doesn't help anyone for you to do this to yourself."

Maybe Katara had been wrong before, about hers' and Sokka's roles being reversed. Maybe nothing had changed since they were kids. Not a damn thing.

She took a deep breath, collecting herself as if Sokka hadn't just opened her wide open and dragged out everything she'd hidden. "Sokka," Katara said gently, trying to be patient, "this isn't the same. Aang isn't dead. This isn't about me, it's—"

"Oh, would you just _shut up_?" Toph suddenly interrupted. She stalked forward, shoving a hand in Sokka's face when he tried to protest. The other hand was curled into a fist and Toph jabbed a finger toward Katara, so close that she went cross-eyed trying to look at it. "I'm sick of watching you throw your little pity-party! Don't try to insist for a damn minute that this is about anyone other than _you_! You're being so self-absorbed right now, Katara. I'm glad I'm blind, because I doubt I would be able to even _look_ at you."

Bristling with indignation, Katara was on her feet in an instant. " _Excuse me_?" She demanded, flabbergasted. " _Selfish_? I'm doing everything I can to help Aang get better, don't you _dare_ start accusing me of being selfish!"

"You're not doing this for Aang, though, are you?" Toph shot back. Her face was turned toward Katara's, eyes glaring at her chin. Even though Katara was a good head taller than Toph, she had never felt smaller. "This is about _you_. You're only still here because _you_ feel like a failure, because _you_ think you need to make this up to yourself, because _you_ wish it was you in that bed instead." Toph's voice was tight, betraying her upset, and Katara caught herself wondering if it would be better or worse to not be able to see the extent of the damage done. Unlike the rest of them, Toph only had whispers and a flickering heartbeat to tell her how Aang was doing. Not letting Katara get a word in, Toph continued. "You think you're the only one effected by this? Aang was my first friend, he's my _best_ friend. So I know that the last thing he would want to see when he wakes up is you wasting away at his bedside, smothering yourself in guilt and not eating or sleeping all on his account." She took a step back and, even though Toph had looked away, her next words held a distinct note of finality. "Either start thinking about what Aang _actually_ needs or stop pretending that it even matters to you."

The frustration of it all had made Katara's face hot with shame and anger but, as she opened her mouth to refute what Toph had said, she realized that she couldn't. Because Toph was _right_. Katara had thinly tried to comfort herself by saying that it was for Aang's sake, to heal and help him, and yet that couldn't be further from the truth.

He didn't need constant healing sessions now that he was getting better. The only reason Aang hadn't healed faster was because Katara hadn't known to cut away the dead pieces after. And he had only gotten shot in the first place because he was trying to protect Katara and she had been unable to return the favor.

No, Toph was absolutely right. Aang didn't need Katara — at least, not as much as she needed him.

Her legs trembled then and Katara found herself sitting back down, staring blankly at Aang. She held a hand to her head, as if it would ward off the headache that was beginning to build. "I…" she tried, but couldn't finish. Katara had no idea what to say.

Sokka finally seemed to remember himself, as he nudged Toph out of the way and reached for Katara. "Please don't cry?" He tried, hesitating to touch her. "Look, Toph was just— You're not—"

"It's fine." Katara cut him off before Sokka could say anything to make them both start crying. "No, I'm— Toph is right, I'm being selfish."

Surprised, Sokka blinked and just sort of stared at Katara for a second. "Really?" He asked, as though unable to quite believe it. When Katara's only response was to nod, a hesitant smile spread across his face. "So, then, are you ready to come up on deck and eat something?"

The mention of food made Katara's stomach growl and she pressed a hand over her abdomen self-consciously. At least she was able to feel hunger again. "Maybe," she allowed. Still, Katara hesitated. It was hard to drag her eyes away from Aang for longer than a few seconds at a time. "...Can you bring my food down here?"

"Oh, Tui and La—!" Sokka threw his hands up in exasperation and got to his feet. "Nope, I'm drawing the line here, no more playing nice. Come on, Katara, you're going to start taking care of yourself like a responsible person whether you want to or not." He grabbed Katara by the wrist and pulled her to her feet with a surprising amount of strength, not that she was trying very hard to resist.

There was a smile tugging at Katara's lips even as she dug her feet into the floor, trying to hold her ground. "Sokka, please," she objected. "Be reasonable."

"I am being more than reasonable!" Another good tug made her stumble and Katara swallowed a giggle. "This has gone on long enough. Stop being difficult!" Beneath Sokka's frustration, Katara could tell that he was being overdramatic on purpose, to make her laugh, and she would have been frustrated if it wasn't working.

"Katara." The sound of her name made her look up. Toph was staring at the ground again, but the smile on her face was directed at Katara. "Don't worry. I'll keep an eye on Aang and you'll be the first person to know if he needs an emergency healing session."

Chest squeezing with fondness, Katara finally allowed herself to be pulled out of the room. When was the last time that she left it? "Thank you," she said to Sokka and Toph both, and pulled the door shut with a clang behind her. (And maybe she stole one last look at Aang on her way out, but neither of them noticed.)


	5. right there, waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost forgot to upload this today. But here we go, final chapter!

Again, Katara found herself at Aang's bedside. It was hard to stay away, even though she knew that, technically, he was fine. Or, getting there, anyway.

His fever was gone, which was good, obviously. Katara was limiting herself to only spending three hours next to Aang a day, not including the time she took for healing sessions, which Sokka had talked her into limiting to two. Finding something to do with herself outside of Aang's room, on a Fire Nation ship adrift in the vast ocean, was more challenging than she thought it would be.

Most of the time, though, Toph was available to spar. Neither of them talked much through it, but they both vented their frustration through their blows. Katara and Toph had reached some sort of silent consensus: they both needed to be stronger. If they were stronger, they could protect Aang. As his bending masters, they could teach Aang to protect himself. And if they could do both of those things perfectly, they would never have to fret at his sickbed again.

It felt awful, waiting for Aang to wake up. Katara wouldn't have wished it on her worst enemy. (She would wish far, far worse things on them, though.)

So Katara was bruised and tired, but the fading adrenaline tingled pleasantly and getting exercise made Katara feel better all-around. It was like she had been moving through a fog and she hadn't known it until Sokka and Toph had forcibly pulled her out of it.

It would be a lot better if Aang would just open his eyes, though. They were nearing the third week of his unconsciousness and everyone was getting more anxious by the day. For them to make a move against the Fire Nation, if Sokka's invasion plan during the eclipse was still going to come to pass, then Aang needed to be awake. He was instrumental to the plan's success, to ending the one-hundred-year war peacefully.

And aside from that, Katara was growing more irritable every time she left Aang's room, she hardly ever saw Sokka when he wasn't pacing, and Toph had reworked half of the unused rooms in the ship into her own personal punching bag. They were all exhausted. They all missed their friend.

A part of Katara wished, fleetingly, that Aang wasn't the Avatar. That he didn't have to wake up to a war that he was still expected to stop, not weeks after nearly dying. If he had never been the Avatar at all, maybe they would still be traveling the world together peacefully, surfing giant koi fish and riding the hopping llamas, and all the other ridiculous things Aang was so eager for her to experience. Maybe she would have found a Water Bending master but, then, maybe she wouldn't have. Katara's hands were calloused and her skill was undeniable, yet she took one look at Aang's used bandages and knew that she would give it all up in a heartbeat for those peaceful days. Hands that could move mountains, traded for hands that had never _needed_ to know healing and fighting.

The door to the room eased open and, for once, Katara didn't feel the urge to ready herself for a fight. She looked up and smiled tiredly at Sokka, who looked just as exhausted as she was.

He glanced at Aang, still unmoving in bed, and his smile flickered into a frown for a moment before Sokka focused again on Katara and forced his expression back into a hopeful one. "Hey." He had just poked his head into the room, obviously not intending to stay. "Dad and the others think we should start planning the invasion more seriously. Do you want to come help us plan?"

Katara almost said yes, but she thought about it a moment more and didn't know why she would go. Strategy wasn't her specialty. Her contributions were more in the fighting than the planning, and she knew that her dad and her brother would do a much better job at that than Katara ever could.

And maybe she still just didn't feel ready to sit next to her dad casually. Katara loved him, she loved her dad so much that it _ached_ , but something else was aching, too. Something that she had buried and bandaged and ignored. (Something that he had ripped wide open when Katara sat in the hallway and listened to what her dad had done to Aang.)

Her mouth went dry, but Katara managed to continue smiling as she gently shook her head. "No, thanks," she mumbled. "You don't need me in there." She knew where she was needed. And it was to be right there, waiting, when Aang woke up. "I'll see you all at dinner."

That seemed to satisfy Sokka, especially since he knew now that he could drag her out of the room if he had to. "Alright, well…" He shifted awkwardly. "Just… let us know if anything changes." Katara's nod must have been answer enough because Sokka lingered only a moment longer before he slipped back into the hall and pulled the door shut behind him.

It was quiet again, which wasn't surprising but was beginning to feel odd. Even in her village of only fifty people, at its peak, there was a sense of community that kept all of them tight-knit and always talking. Traveling with Aang and Sokka and Toph, Katara hadn't had to worry about silence. One of them always seemed to have something to say. And if they didn't, then Aang found something to talk about. It seemed like, for a monk, he couldn't tolerate quiet any more than she could.

She slouched down in her chair and folded her arms over her chest, looking at Aang with lips pursed. If he were awake, Katara could easily imagine Aang trying to force his way out of bed and talking nonstop through a rasping throat. With him, silence had always been a sign that something was wrong.

(He had been so quiet after they left the Southern Air Temple. After they lost Appa in the desert, Aang had either been quiet or yelling at them — and even then, he only spoke when spoken to. He never said a word when he was in the Avatar State, and Katara had never seen such anger or sorrow on another person's face before him.)

Before, it had seemed like too much to try talking to Aang. Too much like talking to a dead body. Katara had known that he wouldn't reply and she wasn't quite prepared for the disappointment she would feel when he remained silent.

But after her talk with Sokka and Toph a few days before, Katara had been wanting to get a few things off of her chest. Things that she owed to both herself and Aang to admit to. He was sleeping, so Katara doubted that he would hear her. It would be enough, for herself, just to hear it out loud.

So Katara took a deep breath and stared at the door. If someone entered, she doubted she would be able to pick up and continue once they were gone, but Katara wasn't about to say it in front of another person, either.

"I'm worried about you," Katara said simply. In the cold, quiet room, even that obvious admission seemed like she was saying too much. She winced and forced herself to continue. With every word, the pressure on her chest began to lighten and speaking became easier. "I don't mean about you right now, even though, yes, I'm really worried that you aren't ever going to wake up." The thought alone was physically painful, like a rock had locked itself beneath Katara's ribs. "It's more that… when you do wake up, hopefully soon, there's so much for you to do. And that's not fair. I wish it didn't have to be like this, because you've already done so much that I'm surprised you haven't dropped from exhaustion." Katara huffed on a humorless laugh. "Although, I guess that goes for all of us.

"I know that I mother you more than I should. And I don't mean to, but I… I look at you sometimes and I can't get over how young you are. Which is ridiculous, because I'm not much older than you, but…" Sighing, Katara wrung her hands in her lap and finally pulled her gaze back over to Aang. She frowned at his face before glancing at his hands, imaging the pulse beneath her fingers. Katara knew already that it was steadier than it had been in weeks and it took a conscious effort not to reach over and double-check.

She quickly found that it was impossible to continue talking while looking at Aang's face, so Katara forced herself to focus on his hands. They were calloused and had been since she met him. Not like Katara's, soft under the protection of her mittens when the hardest work she'd ever had to do in the village before was wash her family's clothes.

"I wish you weren't the Avatar, you know that? You wouldn't have to be in this bed, but… But then you probably would have died with the rest of your people, wouldn't you?" Katara smiled sadly, longingly. "Sometimes I wonder if you would have preferred that. And then I tell myself that it's stupid to think that, but I don't know for sure. I've never asked and you don't like to talk about it. I think the worst part is that, before I even think that you would have died, I think that I wouldn't have gotten to meet you."

There were tears in Katara's eyes and, for the first time since their escape from the catacombs, she let them fall. Her shoulders were shaking and her hands stayed firmly folded in her lap. Guilt surged like an ocean in her stomach and Katara wished she could drown in it.

She laughed and it came out cracked. "What a horrible and selfish thing to think about. If this whole thing has taught me anything, Aang, it's that I wouldn't know what to do with myself if you died. I think I would want to keep trying to take down the Fire Nation and end this war, but I just don't know. I was never a noble person before I met you. It's hard to believe that there was ever a point in my life where I imagined a future without you in it," Katara confessed, "and I think having to go back to that, losing you, I… I don't know if I could keep being the person that I am today. She only exists because you came into my life."

Reaching up, Katara wiped away the tears clinging to her lashes. She was glad that she hadn't broken down sobbing, though even that little amount still felt like a relief. Everything had been bottled up for so long. It felt good to vent her thoughts.

Aang's hand twitched and Katara looked at him in surprise. A shot of worry went through her as she wondered if it was another fit of shivering. He hadn't done that since his fever went down, but if he picked it back up then that meant that the infection was back and he could start getting worse again.

Katara set her hand over Aang's and reached over with her other one to feel his forehead for any sign of a fever. She didn't get that far. Her breath caught in her throat and Katara froze.

For the first time in weeks, Aang was looking at her. His eyes were open, barely more than slits, but she could see the steel grey of his irises and knew that he was _awake_. The smile on his face was identical to the one he had given her as they left Ba Sing Se, a hole blown in his back and recently resurrected from the dead, yet still managing to smile at Katara as if she was the only thing in the world.

Her jaw worked uselessly a few times. "Aang…?" Katara whispered, like his name was a secret. She leaned over him, setting her hand delicately on his cheek. When he didn't disappear, when his skin was warm beneath her touch and assuredly _not_ a dream, a grin broke its way onto her face. "Aang!" She threw her arms around his neck, mindful not to put too much pressure on his chest. "You're awake! How are you—? I mean, did you—?" Another thought flittered into her mind then and Katara turned red.

How much of what she'd said had he heard?

She pulled back, just enough to be able to look him in the eyes. Aang blinked at her, struggling to remain aware. Katara wondered if he remembered what happened or if he could tell where he was. She didn't think so, but the lack of answers didn't seem to bother him. That smile stayed on his face and he muttered, so softly that Katara had to strain to hear it, a response to the one thing she _hadn't_ said; "I love you, too."

The affection welling in her chest made it hard to breathe. Katara blinked back another wave of tears and pulled Aang to her chest, cradling him gently. She curled her fingers into the short hair he had grown, clutching his arm with her other hand. It felt like he would fall apart if Katara wasn't holding him together. When she pulled back after a long minute, Aang's breathing had evened out and he was asleep again.

Maybe that should have bothered Katara or worried her, but she was too relieved that he'd been awake at all to care. That was progress. Even if he was delirious for the next few days and awoke sporadically, that was one step closer to him being back to full health. She had to tell Sokka and Toph the good news. They would be ecstatic. Katara hid a smile in Aang's shoulder and muffled a relieved laugh. There was a fluttering feeling in her chest and she felt like she could kiss him.

That thought gave Katara pause, her smile falling away in her surprise. Kiss him? Where had that come from?

Gently, Katara stood up, laying Aang back down how he'd been before she started manhandling him. Her face was flushed, brow knotted in confusion. She had thought of kissing boys before (another painful reminder of Jet coming to mind), but Aang was her best friend. Practically a little brother to her.

Wasn't he?

Katara shook the thought away (and tucked it away for later). There were more important things for her to be thinking about. She had promised to tell Sokka and Toph if anything changed, and Aang would be fine for about five minutes while she delivered the good news.

Setting her hand on the door, Katara paused. She glanced once more at Aang over her shoulder (and a private smile came to her face — a secret just for him and her) before she slipped out of the room.

**Author's Note:**

> I made a little AMV edit for this fic and put it on my YouTube channel if you guys want to see. It's **[HERE](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=imDx-_3rItI)!** I used the song that I titled this fic after so you guys can see why I consider it an Aang/Katara song. 
> 
> I also have a Tumblr **[HERE](https://karkalicious769.tumblr.com/)** featuring some other links if you guys want to support my writing!


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